


i start believing all your stories

by lilsoftgay



Series: writers month 2020 <3 [8]
Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: But this was fun to write - Freeform, F/F, They're a mess, fallon's just breaking apart, i. do not know what this is, kirby's a wild child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25795669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsoftgay/pseuds/lilsoftgay
Summary: "What are friends for, if not to tell you that your wife is across the bar from them with her tongue down a stranger’s throat?"---writer's month - day 8 : eight
Relationships: Kirby Anders/Fallon Carrington
Series: writers month 2020 <3 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861795
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18
Collections: Writer's Month 2020





	i start believing all your stories

**Author's Note:**

> tw : cheating  
> tw : referenced (repeated) drinking 
> 
> \---
> 
> idek. this was fun to write. 
> 
> title from : if you're gonna lie by fletcher

The first time it happens, Fallon doesn’t realize. 

She smiles when Kirby quietly walks back into their bedroom later than she’d said she would be, all tipsy smiles and messy hair. Fallon teases her for it, but Kirby’s hair has always been messy so it’s nothing new. 

Fallon had called her birdhead for a whole year when they were younger because the back of her hair always resembled a nest. (She’d then upgraded the insult to birdbrain after hearing someone at school use it.)

Kirby kisses her, and Fallon scrunches her nose at the taste of vodka. Kirby usually sticks to tequila, and Fallon has always been gin all the way unless she has champagne to hand. Vodka on Kirby’s lips is new to her and brings back unnecessary memories of drunk antics in freshman year. 

Kirby mentions something about work as she undresses, and Fallon hums, pulling Kirby back into bed, too turned on by Kirby’s bare back to listen to mindless chatter. 

\---

The second time it happens, Fallon  _ knows _ . 

There’s nothing that specifically tips her off. 

Kirby’s working late, Allison is too. Nothing out of the ordinary, the two often put in extra hours, everyone at Fempirial does. Fallon’s working too but from her laptop in the comforts of her own home. 

She smiles, sipping on a Southside, it always tastes better when she makes it herself at home instead of at the office. 

She stops smiling when her phone beeps, Kirby saying it’s going to take longer than planned and she’ll be home in a few hours. 

Nothing out of the ordinary. Except that Allison had just texted her that they were done and wrapping up for the night and to check her email for a few things to proofread ahead of the board meeting next week. 

Kirby’s all tipsy smiles when she gets home. She smells of whisky this time and something drops in Fallon’s stomach, remembering the vodka night. 

“Where were you?” 

Kirby turns around, half-undressed, and eyes her unsteadily from across the room in front of their dark mahogany wardrobe. “I told you, working late, Allison and I needed to finish the slide deck.” 

Fallon turns to face the wall away from the wardrobe, gripping the duvet cover. “Oh, I thought she left hours ago, she texted me that the work was done.” 

She curses at herself for having turned around so that she doesn’t see Kirby’s reaction. She’s left in the dark for a few minutes until the bed dips behind her. 

Kirby wraps an arm around Fallon and pulls her in, kissing her shoulder softly. “We did. We both wanted to go home, but I wanted to make sure everything was set for the next few weeks too, so that when we take our vacation nothing can interrupt it, so I went back and did that.” She kisses Fallon’s shoulder again softly. 

Fallon turns in her arms and gives her a real kiss. 

Kirby falls asleep almost instantly. 

Fallon struggles to sleep, watching Kirby’s breathing even out, and wondering whether her words were the truth. 

She could check the office CCTV... She could, and she almost does, getting out of bed and halfway to the living room before she pivots and goes to the bathroom to splash cold water in her face instead. 

She’d told Monica once, back when they were in college and dating guys and generally being clueless about love, that if you feel compelled enough to go looking for proof that someone is cheating, that’s proof if enough. Maybe not necessarily of them cheating, but proof enough that your relationship has broken down. 

Fallon cries herself to sleep on the living room couch. 

\---

The third time it happens, Fallon catches her out in her lie. 

It’s been six weeks since the last incident, as Fallon chooses to name it, and their so called vacation has come and gone. 

Fallon spent most of it working. Kirby spent most of it asleep on the pool bed next to her, tanning. 

It’s only on their last night on the island that they actually do anything besides laying out by the pool. It’s just dinner and it’s just in a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant, but it’s something, and it makes Fallon smile. 

They hold hands on their way back to the AirBnB, and Kirby tries to kiss her on the doorstep but it feels too foreign and they both pull apart and go inside to pack, not speaking about it. 

It’s been six weeks, and nothing seems wrong, and Fallon lets her guard down again. 

Kirby’s working late, she’s been working late every night for the past weeks. Fallon doesn’t understand,  _ can’t _ understand, why on earth Kirby doesn’t just leave when Fallon leaves and bring her laptop home so they can work together away from the distractions of the office. 

She’s lonely and she’s annoyed and she wants to watch her show with Kirby, damnit, so Fallon drives herself back to the office. 

It’s only dimly lit, but it’s clear no one’s there before she’s even got the door fully open. With a sweeping glance at the empty workspace, Fallon’s eyes start to shine, and she pinches herself to stop the tears from falling. She takes it out on Kirby’s desk instead, knocking her favorite mug to the ground and scattering her notes all over. 

She’ll blame it on the fan that someone left running overnight in the morning if Kirby asks. 

She’s still awake when Kirby gets home. 

“Work late again?” 

Fallon’s not sure whether she’s hoping for a yes or a no. Really, she’s just hoping this is all a nightmare and that she’ll wake up instead. 

(It’s not a nightmare, Kirby smells like bourbon, and Fallon wants to be sick.)

“Yeah, babe, I’m sorry. Just needed to get the budget done for Sam.” Kirby sighs, her eyes are unfocused and Kirby recognizes that look, and her heart breaks. 

Kirby only ever has that gaze after Fallon makes her scream her name, God’s name, and some unearthly sound that no human should be able to make, all in the same sentence. 

Fallon turns away from her, letting a single tear fall down as the bed dips behind her. She pretends to have fallen asleep until Kirby’s breath has evened out, then goes to the kitchen to make tea. 

She hates tea. But the sound of the kettle drowns out the tears. 

\---

The fourth time it happens, Kirby’s guilt trips her up. 

Kirby’s always talked in her sleep. Usually something about their dog, or some random babble, or an Australian word that Fallon would use to tease her the next day. 

Occasionally it’s something terrifying that Kirby doesn’t even remember saying when she wakes up the next morning. 

But no matter how many horrifying facts or creepy phrases Kirby’s sleep talked over the years, Fallon isn’t prepared to hear names spilling out of Kirby’s mouth, half-moaned, half-whispered. 

  
Names she doesn’t even recognize. 

\---

The fifth time it happens, Monica tells her. 

Fallon tries to act surprised, she  _ should _ be surprised to hear from her best friend that her wife is cheating on her, but Monica calls her out on it. 

“Okay, even through the phone and all the noise going on here, I can tell you’re faking it Fallon. So what’s up?” 

Fallon hangs up, she’ll call her later. Probably. Maybe. 

She doesn’t want to talk to Monica about how she can’t confront Kirby about it. 

She doesn’t want to say out loud that she cannot possibly confront Kirby about it, because if Fallon is not enough for Kirby already as-is, then an angry and upset Fallon sure won’t be enough, and Kirby will walk away from her for good, proving once and for all that Fallon truly is unloveable. 

So no, she probably won’t call Monica back to talk about it, ever. She does send her a thank you text. What are friends for, if not to tell you that your wife is across the bar from them with her tongue down a stranger’s throat?

She’s lost in her own thoughts, phone halfway in her hand still, staring into space, when Kirby slams their front door. 

  
Fallon startles, and jumps upright, looking for something to do so Kirby doesn’t walk into the bedroom to find her just sitting there, as though Fallon’s the one with something to hide in this scenario. 

Kirby looks apologetic, “I had to-”   
  
“Work late, I know.” Fallon shrugs, she taps at her phone, screen still blacked out, a couple of times, doing her best to act disinterested. She finally looks up at Kirby and tilts her head. “Do you want dinner? I’m hungry.” 

Kirby’s apologizing. For cheating, or for coming home late, or for not being hungry, Fallon’s not sure. 

Kirby smells like fireball and Fallon’s stomach turns at the thought of the last time she had fireball, drunker than should be humanly possible at age 20 (sorry Blake, sorry the law) at a tailgate in college. 

Club Sanders does serve a ... slightly younger crowd. 

She shivers, thinking of Kirby with a college student. 

Kirby’s apologizing again, hugging her tightly and saying she’ll eat some of whatever Fallon wants to order. 

\---

The sixth time it happens, Fallon stops being surprised. 

Kirby comes home smelling like beer, and Fallon’s nose wrinkles. She hates beer. 

On her fourth apology, Fallon kisses her to shut her up. 

Kirby asks where she wants to go for their next vacation, they try to take one every three months but it’s been seven months (and at least four women) since their last one now. 

Fallon wonders silently if they’ll even make it to their next vacation still together. The thought of losing Kirby makes her cry, and suddenly Kirby’s reassuring her that they can go wherever she wants, do whatever she wants for the entire two weeks, and that Kirby knows Fallon’s only working hard to make her dreams come true. 

Kirby’s proud of her. 

Fallon almost scoffs, and turns it into a cough just quickly enough to hide it. 

Fallon hasn’t worked late. She’s gone to Sam’s to sit on his couch with him and watch awful tv and eat his awful food and drink copious amounts of gin. Sometimes they talk about Kirby, but usually Fallon just whines about the idiot characters in whatever show Sam’s making her watch that day. 

She almost kisses him once, just to see what it’s like, but Sam’s horrified expression makes her stop. She blames it on the gin, and Sam pats her head as he pours out another Southside for her.    
  
“We’re both  _ gay _ , Fallon.” is the only thing he says. 

Fallon asks herself how she got here, but if she knew, she probably wouldn’t be here. She asks Sam how she got here, and Sam just hugs her and hands her another drink with a shrug and a vague “love does wonders” comment. She asks God how she got here, but she’s not even sure if she believes in him. 

She screams into the night from Sam’s balcony, letting her voice get lost in the window. 

A pieces of her gets lost to the wind, to Kirby, too. 

\---

The seventh time it happens, Fallon cries herself to sleep. 

She wakes up when the bed dips behind her, and Kirby’s apologizing for waking her up. 

She smells like rum, vanilla rum, and Fallon wants to cry again. 

Fallon tries to flip the script, and she reaches for Kirby, playing with the drawstring on Kirby’s pajama shorts. 

Kirby sighs and pushes her hands away, saying she’s not in the mood. 

Fallon shrugs, turns around, and waits for Kirby to fall asleep. 

She cries herself back to sleep, wishing, in a twisted way, that Kirby would at least make her lies worth it. It’s been months. 

\---

The eighth time it happens, (the eighth time that Fallon knows about anyway, and she shudders at that thought), Fallon’s left stranded in their sprawling NYC apartment. Dinner on the table. 

She dials Sam’s number, just to have someone to yell at, but hangs up before he can even pick up or send her to voicemail. Fallon has no idea what she’d say to him, anyway. 

“I think my wife is cheating on me because I came home and bought groceries and made (and only slightly burnt) dinner and opened a bottle of red and put on my best lingerie and she just texted me to say she’s working late but I called Allison and she said Kirby left the office three hours ago and this is the fifth, eighth, maybe more time that this has happened.” sounds insane, even to her own ear. 

Fallon doesn’t call Sam again. 

She downs her glass of red, and Kirby’s too in quick succession. 

She downs the rest of the wine, straight from the bottle. 

It’s annoying, she thinks, weighing the empty bottle contemplatively in her hand, that the red wine is so  _ her _ , so  _ Kirby _ . 

Fallon throws the bottle against the tiled wall in the kitchen, recoiling at the sound it makes when it falls to the floor in a thousand little shattered pieces. 

She doesn’t bother to clean it up. Kirby can deal with it when her drunk cheating ass gets home, she thinks. She almost laughs at the thought, but it turns into tears instead. 

\---

Kirby screams when, barefoot and still drunk and still very much in yesterday’s outfit, she steps into the glass the next morning. So much for quietly sneaking in.

Sam takes her to the hospital to make sure all the glass pieces get taken out, and helps her clean up the mess when he brings her back to the apartment. There’s a layer of gauze to keep the infection out, but she’s fine otherwise. 

(Fallon’s only a tiny bit guilty.)

\---

The eighth time it happens, Kirby finally admits it. 

Eight times, Kirby confirms over breakfast one morning, two weeks later. 

They couldn’t ignore it any longer after the glass incident, no matter how much Kirby tried to. 

She starts to list their names, letting her eyes roll up to the ceiling as she thinks back to make sure she’s listing them all properly. 

Fallon gets nauseous. 

She blames it on the undercooked eggs when she comes back from the bathroom, face still a little pale. Kirby pokes at the overboiled eggs on her own plate, they look exactly the same as Fallon’s, and raises an eyebrow but chooses to not say anything. 

Kirby shares some of the details. Either in a move to reassure Fallon that it was only ever sex and she doesn’t love the women, or in a move to start trying to earn Fallon’s trust back, Fallon’s not sure which one. She’s not even sure whether or not she cares at this point. 

It’s not like Fallon’s listening anyway. 

All Fallon can focus on is that her wife, her wife who stood at the altar and vowed to choose her every day of their lives, had slept with eight other women whose names she couldn’t even remember. 


End file.
